


Dreams

by isabeau



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, Really old fic (pre-2000)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-01-01
Updated: 2000-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-18 07:27:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/186425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isabeau/pseuds/isabeau
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Giles likes to dream, except he gets a bit confused. Spoilers for "Becoming" (S2).  I have vague memories of writing this because someone (*cough* hi meerkat *cough*) wanted angsty smut, or smutty angst, one of the two.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreams

Giles winced as he peeled his shirt off. It still hurt to move-- hell, it  
hurt to breathe!-- and he suspected it would hurt for a long time. He'd  
taken as many painkillers as he dared, and his head was getting a little  
fuzzy, but the pain hadn't decreased that he could tell.

There was a mirror on the inside of his wardrobe door, and he stared at  
himself critically for a while. It had been three days since  
Angelus'...ministrations...and he almost looked worse. The whole left  
side of his rib cage was a solid mass of angry purple, and there were  
other bruises in varying shades of blue, black, and green, speckled across  
his abdomen. He looked at his face-- mostly untouched, especially now  
that the cut on his forehead was healing-- and scowled back at his  
reflection before turning away with an abruptness that made him wince  
again.

Squeezing his eyes tight as if that could take the pain away, he eased  
himself gently down onto his bed and swung his legs up. Between the pain  
and his constant worrying over Buffy-- Willow said that she would be back,  
but Giles wasn't so sure; Acathla hadn't succeeded, which meant she had  
somehow dealt with Angel/Angelus, and she was probably hurting even more  
than he was right now-- he didn't think he'd get to sleep for a while.

His body, he discovered as he drifted off into a haze of pain-filled,  
drugged pseudo-sleep, had other ideas.

  
* * * * *

He dreamed of Jenny again. He'd dreamed of her every night since her  
death. Sometimes it ended with a variant on her death; more often,  
though, she was there until he woke up with a sense of loss and defeat.

She was waiting for him, sitting with her knees tucked up under her chin,  
a smile dancing in her eyes and quivering at the corners of her mouth.

"Hello, England," she said, standing up slowly.

Giles shook his head, but his muscles didn't feel like they were under his  
control. "This is a dream," he said, his voice thick.

She cocked her head, bird-like, and the smile deepened. "Yeah, it is."  
She moved closer until her face was inches from his, until her breath  
tickled his lips. "That's all we have left now; but it's better than  
nothing, isn't it?"

Giles struggled to find a response, but she kissed him, gently,  
teasingly. "You're so very British," she scolded, but she was laughing.  
"We're together, and you want to *talk*?"

"Erm," Giles said.

She ran a hand through his hair; the other rested on his chest, pressing  
lightly (if painfully) against the bruises Angelus had left. "I wish I  
could do more," she whispered, "but at least I can take the pain away."  
She traced her hand down along his jaw; it wasn't until her hand dropped  
lower and started circling the bruises on his chest that he realized he  
was, somehow, naked. He looked down and caught her hands in his. The  
bruises were fading, more quickly than should be natural; then she kissed  
him again, with far less reserve than the first time, and he forgot about  
the bruises.

She felt real enough to him that he almost forgot it was a dream, even  
when her clothes vanished in an instant. When she took him by the hand  
and led him to a bed-- it wasn't his bed, and it wasn't hers, but it  
didn't matter because it was empty and it was big enough for the both of  
them-- he went willingly, and when she pulled him into a sprawl on the  
bed, laughing, he smiled and nuzzled at her, nibbling gently at the hollow  
of her throat. She gave a half-laughing gasp, and her head arched back,  
exposing more of her throat to his questing tongue. Her hands rubbed in  
circles along his back, leaving his skin tingling with pleasure.

Giles couldn't seem to stop kissing her, as if she would disappear the  
moment he took his attention off her. He could taste salt, and realized  
they were both crying. She met every kiss with a kiss of her own, every  
touch with a touch, and still he had the nightmarish feeling that she  
would disappear out from under him. "Don't leave me," he whispered  
against her mouth. "Please?"

Her answer wasn't in words, but he got the feeling she wouldn't, and that  
was enough. He kissed her again, urgency making him a little desperate,  
and he knew without looking down that he was growing hard. She purred,  
deep in her throat where it was more vibration than sound, and he smiled  
at her before kissing her again, full on the mouth.

Mid-kiss he became aware of another person in the room, and looked up to  
see Angelus, smiling with dark humour.

Giles swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up abruptly,  
trying to keep himself between Angelus and Jenny. She didn't seem to  
notice the interruption-- she rose with him and kept kissing him from behind,  
at the nape of his neck and down his shoulders and spine, and her slender  
hands roved aimlessly over his chest and stomach and groin. Giles glared  
at Angelus, clutching in one hand a stake he hadn't realized he had.

"I'm not letting you take her," he said, trying to keep his voice angry  
even though his stomach was churning with a combination of passion and an  
almost erotic fear. "Not again."

Angelus just laughed, and his face shifted to demon form. "I wouldn't  
worry about that," he said mockingly, walking backwards, fading into the  
shadows. Jenny cupped Giles' chin with one hand, turning it so she could  
kiss it. Angelus smiled, showing fangs. "If I were you," he continued,  
"I'd be more concerned with my safety than hers."

Then he was gone, but Giles was a little too shaken by the vampire's  
intrusion to do anything other than stare at the shadows where Angelus had  
been. Behind him, Jenny draped her arms around his shoulders and nuzzled  
against his neck. "Come back to bed, love," she said in a voice oddly  
British. "We hadn't finished."

He closed his eyes and let her lead him back to the bed, and she kissed him  
while pushing him backwards. This time she was on top, half-straddling  
him.

"I love you," she said, and her voice was familiar, even though somehow  
wrong. "I want you."

He opened his eyes again, and met the eager, golden eyes of--

\--Drusilla?

Furious, alarmed, he pushed her away and sat up. Drusilla pouted at him.  
"What are you doing?" he shouted, a little breathless from anger. "What  
have you done with Jenny?"

"Nothing," she said. Her voice was, as usual, somewhat drowsy. "She had  
to go home. She wasn't invited to the party."

Giles stood up and started to pace. He was still holding the stake in one  
hand. "She was here, a moment ago! I should kill you--"

"But you won't," she purred, advancing on him. "You would be..." Her  
gaze left his face, traveled down, and one hand stroked his still-hard  
member. "...disappointed."

Giles could feel his body responding almost eagerly to the vampire's  
touch. He tried to pull away, but couldn't. Drusilla smiled up at him.

"You see?" Her hand traveled up, scraping lightly at his skin with her  
long fingernails, and his muscles tensed. "Your body knows. It knows  
what you want. Don't be afraid." She kissed him again, nipping at his  
lower lip with her fangs, and then looked into his eyes. "It's just a  
dream, after all."

He could feel his heart pounding, and couldn't tell where the need stopped  
and the fear began. It was wrong; it had to be wrong. She was a vampire,  
wasn't she?

Her nails traced swirls down his back, and he gasped at the waves of  
painful pleasure which coursed through his body faster than thought. She  
smiled at him as he cupped the back of her head and kissed her, hard,  
angry, hungry, his tongue seeking hers and not flinching back at the  
fangs.

Maybe it wasn't right-- but how much did that matter? Doing what was  
'proper' had gotten Jenny killed. And he needed her-- needed _someone_...  
Drusilla led him to the bed, and this time he didn't resist.

 _/Finis/_


End file.
